Hold On
by ZenDog16
Summary: "Beth!" He called again. There was rustling in the bushes and Daryl turned to aim his crossbow at it, finger finding the trigger. One heartbeat later and the moonlight caught on blonde hair as Beth stumbled into view. He dropped the bow to his side as relief washed over him. Daryl and Beth's story continued as if she was never taken by Grady Memorial Hospital.
1. Prologue

Daryl burst from the funeral home into the cool Georgia air. He glanced around, flagging the two walkers ambling through the bushes towards him but ignoring them. He sped down the back steps and dodged past the moving bodies before making for the trees that obscured the road from view. One lone walker met a quick end on the handle of his crossbow before he was ducking under a low branch and emerging onto the graveyard road. It was empty.

He stopped to catch his breath and scanned the area quickly. It was quiet now, but for the buzzing of insects and the muted banging of the walkers still stuck in the house.

"Beth?" He called, keeping his voice low.

No answer. He bent down to load the crossbow quickly then hoisted it up, scanning the trees. It was too dark to make anything out.

"Beth!" He called again, more loudly.

There was rustling in the bushes to his left and he spun around quickly to aim his arrow at it. Something moved in the shadows and he narrowed his eyes, finger finding the trigger easily. He waited; watching as the leaves shifted again and he heard a twig snapping. Someone was there. One heartbeat later and then the moonlight caught on blonde hair as Beth stumbled from the bushes into view. He dropped the bow to his side as relief washed over him.

"Sorry," she whispered, "… Are you alright?"

"'m fine," He replied, eyes scanning her quickly to make sure she wasn't injured.

She moved towards him, still limping slightly on her sore ankle. She reached out to squeeze his forearm reassuringly when she was close enough. They both turned as the groaning from the direction of the house increased. More shapes were moving through the dark grounds in their direction.

"You good to run?" Daryl said, eyes still on the trees.

"Yeah" Beth replied, not willing to admit her ankle was starting to ache again.

"Lets get outta here then," he said, pushing her lightly in the direction of the graveyard gate as he scanned the tree line one last time.

The way was momentarily clear so they took off at jog. By the time the walkers had dragged themselves onto the road, the two of them were long gone.


	2. Not So Useless

There was pre-dawn light just appearing on the horizon when they finally stopped to rest. They had left the road a while back. Moving through the forest was slower but there were fewer walkers and less chance they'd run into others who might cause them trouble. When Daryl finally stopped moving they were in a grassy grove sheltered by tall trees. There was morning dew forming on the ground and a light mist rolled its way lazily through the tree trunks.

Beth was exhausted and the pain in her ankle had turned from a dull ache to a steady throb. She came to a breathless stop underneath a tall tree. Leaning against it, she slid to the round with a grimace. Pulling her boot off gingerly, she started to unwrap Daryl's makeshift bandages, which had shifted and loosened as they were running.

"Still sore huh?" Daryl asked, handing her their shared water bottle as he crouched in front of her to get a closer look. Her ankle was swollen, but not as red and angry as it had been a few days earlier. It was healing at least, Beth thought, just slowly.

"Its alright," she lied, but she couldn't hold back a grimace as Daryl reached out to touch the tender tissue.

"Shouldn' have made you run so far," he said, slightly guiltily, "We'll have to find somewhere to hold up awhile."

Beth nodded, thankful for the idea of another days rest. Her ankle injury was frustrating; it made her feel like a burden again after she had been trying all this time to be useful.

Realizing that Beth wasn't going to be moving again in a hurry, Daryl decided to hunt nearby. Though not before checking that Beth had her knife out and ready.

"I'll be fine Daryl. Just go," She said, half exasperated at his treating her like a child that needs protection again.

"Yeah alright," he growled, swinging his crossbow over his shoulder, "Just don't come callin' for me when all you can manage is to stab 'em in the knee caps."

She snorted quietly and ignored the quip about her inability to stand. She settled back against the tree to rest as he disappeared into the trees

Alone, the forest felt suddenly eerie. The light mist obscured much of her view and it was silent, still early enough that the normal hum of daytime insect activity hadn't started yet. She wished she could sleep, but knew it wouldn't be safe while she was alone. Her stomach gave a quite pang of hunger, which she ignored. It had been months since she had felt full. Not since the prison…

Beth berated herself quickly for thinking about the prison, knowing it would only make her unhappy to think of her father and her sister. And Judith. Carl. Glenn. Rick. Michonne. Carol. Too many names to recite… Beth didn't let herself think about them during the day. She waited until it was dark and she was alone, then she would think of them and cry for them. She would silently pray that somewhere some of them might still be alive, though she wasn't sure if she still believed that there was someone around to listen to prayers.

She gave herself a small shake to clear the thoughts of her prison family away, running her fingers through the damp grass as a distraction. The morning dew was cool and refreshing so she wiped her now moist hands across her face, trying to clean off some of the grime and push away her exhaustion.

She started to re-do the bandages around her foot, trying to remember how Daryl had done it so that they supported her ankle and took some of her weight off the sore ligaments. She was just tucking the end of the makeshift bandage into place when she heard the dry rattling breath of an approaching walker. Her heart rate picked up instantly. She slid her boot on quickly and pulled herself to a standing position against the tree, knife gripped tightly in her hand.

Beth could hear it moving clumsily through the forest, groaning and gurgling as it went. She glanced around, disorientated by the mist and the half-light that obscured the creature from view. It seemed to be coming from both behind her and in front of her all at once. She moved away from the tree and turned slowly, knife out in front of her, her breathing coming quickly now as her heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to shout out at the walker to come and get her, wanted to feel brave and strong, not like the small teenage girl hiding alone in the dark that she was.

Suddenly the walker was in front of her. It was a middle-aged man, or at least it had been, now dressed incongruously in a tattered business suit. There was fresh blood dripping from its chin and smeared across its shirtfront. This close the smell hit her like a wall and its swollen bloodshot eyes seemed to bulge out towards her. It lunged, crying out in its raspy voice, jaws snapping at her face. But Beth was ready with the knife and she sent it straight into its eye socket with as much force as she could. It sunk through the eye into the skull with a sickening crunch, and immediately warm blood and other fluids she tried not to think about were covering her sleeve and spreading up her arm. She shoved the body backwards to the ground, yanking the knife from its skull as it fell. She felt a surge of triumph that it was dead and she wasn't. Not so useless after all, she thought. She was still caught up in her victory when the second walker collided with her side on.

Beth fell, landing hard on her flank, her knife flying from her hand. The walker staggered to the ground on top of her, its weight coming down on her sore ankle causing her to cry out in pain. It reached its hands towards her blindly, jaws wide. Beth struggled under it, knocking its clawing hands away from her. It lunged down at her and its putrid breath hit her in the face. She pressed her hand into its forehead, pushing it away as it snapped its jaws at her. She struggled with it desperately; trying the keep the teeth from making contact while reaching around with her other hand, feeling for a rock or something else sharp or heavy.

Suddenly her hand on its forehead slipped and the walker was out of her grasp. It lunged in closer, now inches from her face. Beth barely registered a flash of movement in her peripheries as the walker opened its mouth on her neck. It was moments from sinking its teeth into her neck when suddenly it collapsed. It took her a couple of seconds to register the green fletched arrow imbedded in the side of its skull.

Beth let out the breath she had been holding as the walker's dead weight pressed down on her. She allowed herself a moment to catch her breath and gave a small laugh of relief that she had escaped again. Cheating death was a specialty in the apocalypse and, once again, she was still here. She was pushing at the walker's shoulders in an effort to move the body off of her when Daryl came into view. He grabbed its shirt and shoved it to the side so she could scramble out.

"Thanks," she breathed, as she took his offered hand and was hoisted to her feet.

"There's more comin'," he replied, "We need to move."

"How many?" Beth asked while scrambling to gather her belongings and retrieve her knife.

"Enough."

"Beth looked at Daryl properly now; he looked flighty and nervous, eyes constantly darting around the forest, crossbow already reloaded in his hands. Beth knew that look and it meant they were in real danger. This was more that just a small group of walkers, there was a big herd heading their way.

"Where are we gonna go?" She asked, trying not to let her own anxiety slip into her voice. He glanced at her but didn't answer.

"C'mon."

He took off through the trees at a jog and Beth struggled to keep up, limping noticeably. They had barely gone fifty yards before Beth called out to stop him. She'd never be able to outrun a herd on her bad leg.

"C'mon, Beth," He said exasperatedly, "We gotta go."

"I cant, Daryl. I'm sorry."

He looked at her for a moment, and then shifted his crossbow around his body so it hung across his front and turned around.

"Get up."

Realizing what he was suggesting she placed her hands on his shoulders and jumped as best she could with one leg. His hands gripped her thighs and hoisted her higher onto his back, then he took off again.

They moved slowly like this, her body weighing Daryl down significantly. The other disadvantage, Beth realized, was that if they came across a walker Daryl wouldn't be able to use his crossbow. Then suddenly Beth could hear them, the deep hum of hundreds of walkers groaning and rasping together. They were close. Beth wrapped her arms tighter around Daryl's neck and felt him pick up the pace. But the truth was, they had nowhere to go. They were in the middle of a forest and hadn't seen signs of humans in hours. There was nowhere to hide out here.

As Daryl moved around a large tree with thick low hanging branches, Beth had a sudden idea brought on by flashes of a childhood spent climbing trees on the farm.

"Daryl," She said excitedly, squeezing his shoulder, "The trees! We can climb the trees."

Daryl glanced up at some of the nearby trees; they were all large and leafy enough to obscure them from sight. Many had low branches that would be easy enough to climb. He came to stop at the base of one of them and stopped to look up into its canopy. Beth slid from his back to the ground. She stood next to him and swallowed nervously as she looked up into the tree. It seemed much taller now up close and with limited escape routes if they got caught.

But the hum of the approaching herd was increasing and they had no other options so Daryl crouched down and interlocked his fingers to make a foot hold for her.

"Ladies first."

She stepped onto his hands with her good leg, using his shoulders for balance as he lifted her up so she could pull herself onto the lowest branch. Once she was secure she shifted to make space and watched as Daryl jumped up to grab the branch himself, lifting his body up next to hers. Beth stood up carefully, using the trunk for balance before reaching over for the next closest branch.

They clambered their way up the tree steadily. Beth was slow and hesitant on her sore leg, occasionally needing Daryl's help to hoist herself up to higher branches. It was precarious, with one slight slip meaning a long fall to the ground.

They were halfway up the tree and well into the dense foliage when the first of the walkers came into view. Beth pressed in close to the tree trunk, balancing on a branch that was thinner than she would have liked. Daryl stood on a larger one just to her left and she met his eyes silently, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. They were stuck here now, for as long as the herd took to pass.


	3. Birds on a Perch

The herd was enormous, the largest she had seen by far. Within minutes there was a seething mass of bodies moving below them, gurgling and groaning as one. The smell and sound was immense, leaving Beth feeling dazed. She swallowed down her fear and adjusted herself slightly on the branch to take some of her weight off her bad leg, praying they wouldn't be seen. All it would take was one walker to notice them and they would all converge on the tree, not stopping until they had toppled it to the ground. Beth glanced down at the writhing mass and had to fight off a wave of vertigo. She pulled herself in closer to the tree trunk and shut her eyes.

* * *

><p>An hour later and the herd was still coming, a relentless stream of bodies. The sun was well and truly risen and it was already beating down hard. It was going to be a scorching day. Beth's arms shook as she adjusted her grip on the branch above her one more time. She felt weak and her head was spinning from fatigue and hunger. It had already been a long night on an empty stomach, and now an hour perched on a branch twenty feet above the ground was taking its toll.<p>

She shifted, wanting to rest her giddy head against the tree for a moment when suddenly she slipped. Her foot slid from the branch and into emptiness. Her stomach dropped at the sensation and she tried to grab at the tree but her arms were too weak and shaky to catch a hold. She was toppling to the side with nothing but air below her feet. She was about to plummet towards the ground when a strong hand hooked under her arm and pulled her upwards.

Daryl hauled her up onto the larger branch he was standing on. She grabbed onto his waist to steady herself, breathing hard. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead into his chest as she tried to calm her racing heart, embarrassed at the few small tears that leaked from her eyes. She had been so close to falling. She would have hit one of the larger branches below her, probably broken an arm or struck her head. If she were lucky, she would have been dead before she hit the ground.

"You alright?" Daryl murmured, one arm around her, one still holding onto the branch above him.

Beth nodded and pulled back, raising her eyes to his. Suddenly conscious of how close they were, she let go of his waist to grab the tree trunk behind her and leaned back against it. She gave a small smile.

"Just sick of having to save your ass all the time," she joked quietly.

Daryl let out a small huff of amusement then glanced down into the throng of bodies, the hand on her shoulder falling to his side. Beth relaxed for a moment, her arms felt like jelly from holding on for so long and her fingers were shaking as she carefully swung her backpack over her shoulder and reached into it.

"We should eat something," she said, rummaging around in her bag for a moment before pulling out a flattened looking chocolate bar she had been saving.

She opened it and broke off half for herself before handing the rest to Daryl. He was just pulling it from the foil when a gust of wind snatched the wrapper from his fingers. He lunged for it, trying to catch it before it flew away but missed. It fluttered out of reach within seconds. They both stood silently and watched as the little piece of silver foil lazily floated its way down to the ground and the mass of walkers below.

It came to rest on the shoulder of a passing walker and caught the attention of his neighbor who seemed to register something unusual. It looked upwards in search of the glinting foil that had caught its attention. Beth stood as still as she could, knowing its eyesight wasn't good but unsure of how visible they really were up here. The walker moved closer to the tree, coming to rest at the base of the trunk. Its jaw snapped into empty air. Beth couldn't breath.

Then suddenly there were shots ringing out in the distance. Beth resisted the urge to turn and look, her eyes still on the walkers below. But they heard them. As one, the pack turned towards the noise and surged forwards, their cries growing louder with bloodlust. The lone walker that had been watching them was lost in the throng.

Beth looked up then but she couldn't make out any signs of humans in the sea of green surrounding them. She hoped whoever had fired those shots would get away in time. Below them, the herd pushed forwards through the trees in the direction of the gunfire and it looked like the mass of bodies might finally be thinning out. She glanced across at Daryl and his eyes flickered over her face looking relieved. Whoever had fired those shot had probably saved their lives.

Gradually, the number of walkers below them grew less and less. Ten minutes later, the last straggling walkers were moving past their tree and away from them. And then finally, it was quiet.

Beth leaned her head back against the tree trunk, watching the dappled sunlight in the leaves above her and enjoying the feeling of the shadows and sun playing across her face. They had survived and Beth felt a surge of happiness. She looked across and caught Daryl watching her. He glanced away quickly and cleared his throat.

"'Feel like a damn bird up here," he said gruffly.

"It's nice now," she replied, "Sort of peaceful, don't you think?"

He gave a noncommittal shrug and glanced around. Now that the threat had passed, they could appreciate the remarkable view they had from this high up. The green of the forest stretched out in front of them, with fields and farming land in the distance. The occasional farmhouse was dotted around, all of them looking peaceful and idyllic. It was easy to forget that the world had gone to shit up here.

"It's not so bad," Daryl agreed with some reluctance.

Beth smiled at him in reply and, with that, the two of them began their slow climb down.

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><p><strong>AUTHORS NOTE: Thanks for the reviewsfavs/follows! Glad to know people are enjoying it so far :)**


	4. Burn It Down

It had been four days since they had hid in tree from the massive herd of walkers but Daryl and Beth were still wary of running into it again. They kept a careful watch for signs of it nearby but had seen none. The two of them had holed up in a hunting cabin for two nights while Beth rested her ankle, which was feeling better for it, but they had been forced to move on when a group of walkers found their hideout. Since then they had been back on the road, camping out and eating squirrels.

Today they had set out to join up with a main road hoping to find a small town they could raid for supplies, which were running low. They had passed a few quiet farmhouses, which Beth made a point of avoiding and Daryl never pushed for, so it had been quiet morning.

After a few hours on the road, the sun was high in the sky and it was fast turning into a sweltering day. There was little shelter from the burning heat on the road. After nothing but putting one foot in front of the other all morning, Beth was hot and uncomfortable. She could feel her top sticking to her back and her mouth felt dry and furry. She was frustrated by their lack of direction. There was no plan, ever since they had left the prison they had moved aimlessly from one place to the next with no real idea of where they were heading.

Daryl had become increasingly quiet and withdrawn over the past few days. Beth couldn't work out why and it frustrated her further. They had been doing so well since the moonshine house and now it felt like they were going backwards. Normally she would try to be considerate, try to understand what was going on, but today she just wanted to snap at him. But she knew that would only make him angry and surly with her. So she fumed on in silence, berating him in the privacy of her own head.

Eventually though, the heat and monotony of walking became too much for Beth. She marched over to a tree on the side of the road, threw her backpack to the ground and sat down in a huff. She pulled her water bottle from her bag only to realize that there was barely a mouthful left in it.

"We need more water," Beth said, possibly more forcefully that she needed too.

Daryl had followed her over to the tree and watched her now. Perhaps sensing her less than agreeable mood, he didn't reply.

"Fine," she said angrily, "I'll find it myself."

She stood up and marched over to the roadside fence and clambered over it. A few hundred yards away a weathered-looking farmhouse stood with an overgrown yard surrounding it. She could hear Daryl following behind her, as she knew he would. Even when he was surly and withdrawn he still felt the need to look out for her.

Beth crossed the grassy field and reached the house sooner than she expected. The beautiful white farmhouse loomed up above her, suddenly looking achingly familiar. It had a large wrap around porch just like their farmhouse. There was a dusty looking rocking chair sitting in the corner. She could almost imagine Hershel sitting there in the evening, looking out over the yard with a book in his hands.

She pushed herself up the porch steps, trying to ignore the flood of memories it ignited. But when she reached the front door she couldn't make herself open it. She suddenly couldn't bare the thought of seeing a strange family's belongings strewn throughout the house and rummaging through them for supplies just felt wrong. All the fire gone out of her, she stood there on the doorstep suddenly unsure of what to do.

Daryl walked up the steps behind her and moved past to peer through the windows. The house was quiet. He turned to look at her, his eyes flickering over her face.

"Saw a well round the back," he said shortly, "You wanted water right?"

Beth bit her lip embarrassed, realizing that he saw right through her hesitation. "Right," she replied and turned to leave.

She backed down the stairs and raced around to the back of the house, feeling guilty that she hadn't been brave enough to go in. She saw the well a hundred yards or so away and hurried towards it, ignoring the waves of nostalgia that threatened to overwhelm her everywhere she looked.

As it turned out, the well was worthless, long since dried up. So Beth dropped her backpack on the round and sat down on the wooden rim around its edge, waiting for Daryl. She tried to ignore the tire swing that hung forlornly from a tree near the house; she didn't need the memories of a younger Hershel pushing her ten-year-old self to distress her further.

Daryl raided the house quickly and efficiently. When he caught up with her at the well he carried a fresh stack of canned fruit and beans, a box of matches, a packet of bandages and two candlesticks.

"Better get moving then," Daryl said, on realizing the well was a dead end.

"Yeah… Guess so," Beth replied hesitantly.

Suddenly she didn't want to leave. This farm, the house, even the dried up well were all so familiar, so _normal_. She gazed back at the house, remembering her family home, rearranging the picture in front of her so it looked all that more recognizable. Maggie would be out in the fields on her horse. Her mother would be in the garden, pottering around with her flowers and vegetables. Daddy and Shawn would be by the barn with the pigs or the cattle, making sure they were all healthy and well fed. The quiet ache she felt whenever she thought of her family grew until her chest was tight and heavy. She clenched her fists and fought against the prickling behind her eyes.

Daryl gave her a moment to pull herself together and then he came up besides her, holding her forgotten backpack out for her to take.

"C'mon Greene, ain't nothing but ghosts here."

Beth looked at Daryl and nodded. She took the bag from him with a small sigh. Swinging it over her shoulder, she turned and followed him across the fields to the road. As she walked, Beth considered what he'd said. She had told Daryl that he had to let his old life go and now she realized that she needed to do the same. Her family was either dead or gone. The possibility that she would find Maggie again was slim to none. She needed to let them go or it would eat her up inside. It was just Beth and Daryl now.


	5. Dam Straight

They had walked for another hour or so after leaving the farmhouse. They walked in silence, Beth still lost in thoughts of the farm and her family. With the sun beating down hard, their lack of water was starting to become a real problem but all they could do was walk on and hope they found some soon.

It wasn't until they came across a large sign, jovially declaring "Welcome to Buford Dam, Lake Lanier. Stay and Play!" that Beth was finally snapped out of her reverie. Below the words was a depiction of a merry scene of a family playing by the lake, disturbed only by a perfectly round gunshot hole through the cartoon father's head.

They had both stopped to read the sign. An arrow below the writing pointed to their right, where a small dirt track turned off the main road and disappeared into the trees in the distance.

"Ain't never seen a Dam before," said Daryl, turning to look at her.

She smiled, "First time for everything."

They took the turn off and, with the thought of swimming and washing on her mind, Beth felt light and optimistic for the first time in days.

* * *

><p>When they broke through the trees to arrive on the lakes edge, Beth smiled with relief. It was enormous. It stretched out in front of them for three hundred yards before reaching a sandy, tree-lined shore. And when she turned to her left and right the cool green water extended even further to much more distant shorelines. There were small grassy islands dotted around in the distance. Where she stood now on the edge of the tree line, the grassy undergrowth gave way to hard yellow sand, which the water lapped at gently. She didn't think she had seen anything so inviting in years.<p>

Beth dropped her backpack to the ground and toed off her boots and socks. She pulled her jeans up to her knees and walked directly into the cool water. The sand was soft and the water was cool and refreshing on her tired feet. She couldn't help but let out a small laugh of delight. She turned back to Daryl who was watching her from the beach.

"Its beautiful," she proclaimed.

Daryl just grunted, but he dropped his bag and crossbow to the ground and approached the edge of the lake, crouching down to splash water on his face and neck.

Beth turned back to the open water and breathed in deeply, savoring the moment. She wanted to dive in immediately, to wash the weeks of grime and blood from her skin, but decided against it since a wet pair of pants would leave her cold and uncomfortable once the sun started to set. She returned to the shore and her bag.

At the tree line Beth hesitated, unsure of how to go about shedding some clothing while Daryl was right there. It seemed like such a trivial thing to be worried about after everything they had been through and how closely they had been living. But Beth knew that stripping off her jeans would make Daryl uncomfortable and just the thought made her cheeks tingle with a blush. She turned to look at him but he was busying himself collecting kindling for a fire so she grabbed her bag and ducked into the cover of the trees.

Once out of sight, Beth removed her jeans quickly, leaving her in a singlet and underwear. She dug around in her bag for a few moments before pulling out a small bottle of body wash. She had been carrying it with her for weeks and had almost abandoned it more than once but had eventually hung on in the vain hope she might get a chance to wash again soon. She dumped the rest of her belongings under a tree and peered around the trunk to look at Daryl. He was crouched over a small collection of twigs and leaves attempting to get a fire going for boiling water.

"Daryl?" she called out, tentatively.

"Yeah?" he replied, not looking up.

"I'm going for a swim. Can you… Can you just turn around for a moment?" She said, glad he couldn't see her blushing.

He looked up confused, his eyes searching for her in the trees. Then, on realizing what she was asking, he looked immediately uncomfortable. He turned away from the trees quickly.

Beth hesitated for a moment, watching his hand rub awkwardly at the back of his neck, and then she steeled herself and ducked out of the cover of the trees. Feeling her cheeks flushing, she hurried towards the water and waded into the shallows. It was cold enough to give her a shock but after a long day in the sun the temperature was a welcome change. She dived under, relishing the chill on her face and neck, her embarrassment washing away. As she broke the surface, she wiped the water from her eyes and smiled.

She dived under a few more times, enjoying the silence and weightlessness of being underwater. She opened her eyes and saw the flash of a silver fish nearby and wondered if they might be able to catch them. She broke the surface and floated on her back for a little while, watching the feathery white clouds roll by.

Eventually, she turned and swam back to the shallower water and the small bottle of soap bobbing in the waves. She grabbed the bottle and set about scrubbing off the many layers of dirt on her skin and hair. On the shore, Daryl sat next to the small fire watching the carefully placed tin cans filled with water at its center. He chewed at his thumbnail, his eyes shifting to her occasionally.

When Beth finally felt properly clean, she called out to him, "You should come in Daryl, it's beautiful and cool."

"Nah, I'm good," he replied.

"Come on," she said, smiling, "I'll let you borrow my soap."

He let out a soft snort of amusement. His eyes flickered from the lake up to the beating sun. It was the middle of the afternoon and as hot as ever. After a short moment of deliberation, he gave a vague gesture of agreement and stood up to kick his boots off. He hesitated briefly before he reached over his shoulders to grab the back of his shirt and pull it over his head.

As he turned to throw his shirt behind him, Beth was caught by surprise. She had seen the scars on his back before but they still shocked her, looking harsher and deeper than she remembered. She swallowed and looked away quickly, knowing Daryl wouldn't like her staring.

Rid of his shirt, Daryl plunged into the water and dived under with a splash. He was gone for a couple of seconds before he emerged not far away, flicking wet hair from his eyes.

"See? It's nice, isn't it?" she said, trying to hide her sudden awkwardness.

"Yeah, s'alright," he replied with a half smile. He flipped over onto his back and floated there lazily.

Beth looked down at her hands just below the surface, they looked ghostly white and distorted by the shifting water. She wondered vaguely if walkers could swim and then decided it was best not to think about. A larger fish swam past her feet at a leisurely pace; obviously the residents of the lake had been left undisturbed long enough to forget any fear of humans.

"We should try fishing," she said, "There are Trout in here."

"Nah, not Trout," said Daryl, still floating on his back, "They're Bass."

"How do you know?"

Daryl shrugged his shoulders.

"You used to go fishing?" she pushed, not willing to let him get away from opening up if she could help it.

"A little," he replied, staring up at the sky.

"With Merle?"

"Nah, he never had the patience."

"With who then? Your Dad?" Beth asked, trying to imagine a younger Daryl sitting in a boat on a lake somewhere, not realizing the world was about to end.

Daryl looked across at her again, squinting against the sun and thinking for a moment before replying, "We had this neighbour, crazy old guy named Jackson. He lived on his own in this cabin in the woods. Used to fire his shotgun at anyone that came too close... But for some reason he took a likin' to us. Me and Merle. Took us in when we needed a place to stay."

He paused, lost in thought for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and continued, "When Merle went to juvie, Jackson used to take me out huntin' and fishin'. Taught me bout the local fish, how to gut a deer, that sort of thing."

"I thought you said your Dad taught you that?"

"Yeah well, he weren't much of a teacher."

"Did Jackson teach you how to use the crossbow?" she asked, curious.

"Mmhmm," he replied, "Said if I wanted to learn how to hunt it should be with a real weapon."

Beth looked at Daryl and tried to picture him as a teenager, firing a crossbow for the first time with Jackson looking on. She couldn't help but smile.

"What?" he asked gruffly, seeing her grin.

She was saved from answering by a sudden rattling from the shore. They both looked over to see water boiling and frothing over the brims of the tin cans Daryl had seated in the fire.

Daryl made a soft noise of annoyance and stood up. He waded back to the shore to retrieve the cans. As he left the lake, water running in rivulets down his spine, it wasn't his scars that distracted Beth. The muscles of his back and shoulders shifted with his movement and the sheen of water covering them glinted in the sunlight. As he crouched down over the fire, his wet jeans pulling tight, Beth suddenly felt hot again. She turned away and ducked her head under the water once more.

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><p><strong>Happy New Year! Double chapter update today. I hope you liked this chapter, its my favourite so far :)<strong>


	6. Ghost Stories

Evening had settled across the lake when Beth and Daryl sat down around their small fire to share a freshly caught fish. Daryl had spent a good hour standing in the shallows of the lake with his crossbow before he had caught one. The fish moved faster than expected and the bending of light through the water had thrown him off initially, but eventually he had amassed a small pile of fish on their little beach. While he had fished, Beth washed any clothes they had to spare and rigged up their usual string of cans through the trees to alert them to any approaching walkers.

They settled around the fire as the sun went down. It was a warm evening and the soft glow from the fire along with the quite breaking of the water on the shore made it pleasant and peaceful. After eating, Beth relaxed back against a log with a needle and thread that she had scavenged and set about repairing a hole in the sleeve of her winter jacket. Daryl sat across from her cleaning his crossbow and testing the arrows for breaks. They sat this way in comfortable silence for a quite a while.

When Beth finished with her rather botched attempt at sewing, she put her jacket to the side and watched Daryl. He cleaned the crossbow with considerable attentiveness. Like her father with his animals, she thought. It was this unexpectedly gentle side to Daryl that Beth liked the best. She wondered how long he had had the crossbow for and where it had come from, but almost as soon as she thought of the question the answer came to her.

"He gave you the crossbow, didn't he?" Beth asked, already certain that she was right.

"Who?"

"Jackson!" she replied, annoyed that he was being deliberately obtuse.

There was a long pause in which Daryl didn't look at her.

""…Guess you could say that," he replied eventually.

"What do you mean, 'you guess'?" Beth asked, slightly deflated, "He either gave it to you or he didn't."

Daryl's mouth twisted a little. He was quiet for a long time before he replied.

"One night, 'few years before all of this, me and Merle was just at home and Merle was itchin' for a hit," He paused, his brow knotted, "He needed money for his dealer though and we didn't have anything left anybody would pay for… So he gets it in his head that we should break into a bar and steal some hooch to sell."

Daryl glanced over to her quickly, looking for a reaction but she stayed silent.

"So we get into this dump truck of a car of his and we get few miles down the road when we run outta gas. And Merle's itchin' real bad now- skin crawlin', can't sit still… But we're right near Jacksons' place so I figure, I'll just grab one of the spare gas cans in his shed and we can get goin'… Only once we get in there, Merle sees all the huntin' stuff; guns, knives, the bow, and he says we gotta take it. Says that it'd be worth more than hooch…"

Daryl fingered the fletching on one of the arrows, his face hard.

"I didn't even try an' stop him. Just let him clear the place out and take off... But when we got to the pawnshop, I wouldn't let him take the bow. Told him we should return it. Merle got real mad but he just wanted money fast, so he dropped it. He sells the rest, gets his hit and we go home. Next day, I went back to Jackson's 'n tried to give 'im back the damn thing."

"What happened?" Beth asked quietly.

""He wouldn't take it. Fired his shotgun at me. Said I was scum, but that Merle was worse. Said I'd better use it to shoot my brother someday 'cos we'd all be better off without him…"

Beth was quiet, taking in the irony of those parting words from Jackson.

"Do you think he's still alive?" she wondered aloud.

"No."

Beth didn't ask how Daryl knew.

They sat in silence, watching the fire crackle and spit its way down to coals. Beth was trying to take in everything he had told her, trying to put together a picture of the man Daryl was before and compare it to the man she knew. She remembered the hot-tempered, loud-mouthed redneck that had arrived on their doorstep a few years ago, a string of walker ears around his neck. She had been scared of him then. But now it was like an entirely different man sat before her. She wondered if she had changed as much as he had.

After a few minutes of silence, Daryl shifted and leant back on his hands. Beth looked up to find his eyes on her, contemplating her carefully. He looked like he was about to say something but then he shook his head minutely and looked away.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothin'."

"Daryl, what were you thinking?" she insisted.

He met her eyes briefly, looking uncomfortable. He shrugged his shoulders again and then said self-consciously, "Four years an' I didn't tell no one 'bout my life before this… now I can't shut up."

"There's nothing wrong with trusting someone," Beth replied softly.

He met her eyes properly then, looking cautious and almost childlike. She was reminded of that moment at the funeral home, which felt like forever ago now. She thought of how clearly she had been able to read his clear blue eyes then. She suddenly felt quite warm under his gaze and she bit the inside of her lip as her pulse quickened.

But then Daryl looked away and the moment was gone.

He lay back on the hard ground, his hands behind his head and gazed up at the night sky. Beth looked upwards as well and, as always, was struck by the sheer volume of stars she could see. One of the few benefits of loosing all electricity was that they could truly appreciate the carpet of stars spread out above them. Beth lay back against the log behind her, taking a moment to appreciate the feeling of insignificance prompted by the vastness of the night sky. Most of the time it was easy for Beth to tell herself that she didn't believe in God anymore, but staring up into the night, she wasn't so sure.

They fell asleep like that, staring up into the stars, Beth imagining those cautious clear blue eyes watching her from across the fire once more.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry about the long wait, Ive been without internet for a few weeks. Will continue to update as I can. Hope you enjoyed it!<strong>


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